What Goes Around Comes  Around
by Leonaria Dragonbane
Summary: Sequel to Support - Dana is dead, Nat has a new job in Chicago and Victor has found that what he remembers doesn't match up.  For some reason he's smelling someone he thought was long dead, and goes looking for the truth of his past to find answers.
1. Chapter 1

Okay – I've been reading over some of my older stuff and…I have a new plot … well not bunny, they frighten the kitty cat, we'll call it a Plot Squirrel for Victor's sake and actually this will be a sequel to Support. To summarize, Victor is a federal marshal who married the mother of his child who happened to be the only police officer who ever managed to arrest him, and hold him long enough to have to get a lawyer – and the mother of his only child to date, Natalie Creed.

There is one major plot change between this and the prior story and that is the origin of Victor Creed. For this story I am using the Wolverine Origins story, and will explain why he told the much harsher version of his early life to his wife and child during the course of this story…Lets just say Wolverine's not the only one that Stryker F**ked in the head.

I don't own them, I'm not sure I'd want to own Victor…what am I saying...but I don't more's the pity.

What Goes Around Comes Around – Again, and Again, And Again

Chapter 1

"DAD! Did you hear I got the job? This is the head chef's card. I can't believe I'm really going to get to work at Les Marseilles." Nat had been back and forth on what she wanted to do since college, and sending her to France to study and get her degree in culinary arts from the Cordon Bleu had been all Dana's idea. He'd growled, and groused, said he'd not had enough time with her yet, that he needed more time before she grew up, but it had been another one of those decisions that Dana made, and he had to regret.

"That's great." He smiled as he took the card she handed him. M. Burk. He shook his head a moment, _It couldn't be?_ He shook it again. He hadn't thought of Maggie in almost…three hours. He never went through a day without seeing her in his mind, especially since the damned therapist made him drag all of the memories out of his head.

"What is it, Dad?"

"Nothing Nat – last name brought up a memory."

"You'd like her. Her name's Margaret, but she said call her Maggie." _NO! It couldn't be!_

"Dad, are you sure you're okay?" Nat sat down on the couch with him. He ran his hand over his face and then looked into her pitch black eyes.

"I'm fine…so no problems with you being a Mutant?"

"Nope, Maggie's one too…feral like me, we got along great." She was beaming at him and he wasn't going to try to explain why everything she was saying had him ready to run for the hills – and drag her with him.

"Do you really want to do this?"

"Yes, Dad, I know I'll have to move to Chicago, and I know you HATE the cold…"

"Hate it – I was born in Canada remember." He snarled.

"Yeah – and that's why we always took a long Christmas vacation to Australia. It doesn't even GET that cold here." She seemed to have forgotten his strange reaction, but he couldn't. He needed to get her out of there, back to her own place so he could think.

"I think its great, Trooper." She groaned at his childhood nickname for her and stuck her tongue out at him.

"You need to get out, Dad."

"I'm thinking about a trip home."

"Home? I thought this was home?"

"I need to deal with some stuff…my new therapist…he's got me thinking about things I remember that don't match up. I may do some investigating myself."

"Mom would hate that…tell you it doesn't matter, you have us." She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Dana's dead…and as much as I love her…I can't let her make all the decisions anymore."

"Like you ever did, Dad." Nat kissed his cheek. "I'm going home…the kids should be back from Rick's mom's and I want to tuck them in." That was something else that was bothering the hell out of him…being a grandfather.

"Kiss the girls for me."

She bounced out the door, and he glared into the fire. The marshals had him on an administrative leave…he'd gone berserk when the accident report had come over the radio. She'd been driving to the doctor, both of them shocked at her late life pregnancy. She'd been forty-five, and had honestly thought she was going through menopause even after both he and Nat had told her she was pregnant. The drunk driver had run a red light, plowed right into the driver's side of the car, killing her instantly. He'd wanted fifty years with her, he barely had ten. He'd gone after the driver, ripped half the man's thigh off before the other officers had pulled him off. The only reason they'd not revoked his license – and his pardon – had been because they all wanted a piece of him, and she was his wife, as well as Chief of Police.

The new therapist had started using hypnotherapy on him, and there were some strange holes in his memory – not exactly holes, more like overlaps – and he wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't.

Dana and Nat were real, he knew that. The Runt was real, he knew that, but how they met and who'd killed Logan Creed, Victor's father was a very big question in his mind.

He had two different memories of that event, one where he ripped his father's guts out with his own hands, and one where Jimmy had done it after a sequence of events that even Jimmy hadn't realized were going on around him.

Dana had been wrong about one thing. She wasn't his first marriage, not the first woman he'd ever loved. There were three deaths in his life he regretted, one took the only woman who had ever challenged him completely away, and two at his fathers hand, his mother and

_The door opened, causing him to wince as the light came down the root cellar stairs. He watched as she slipped in, and shut the door behind her as if she were hiding. He knew the feeling. It was the only place he could escape his father's drunken rages since his mother's death._

"_You hidin' from somethin'." He growled softly._

"_Is that you, Victor?" Her voice trembled in fear. _

"_Yeah, Maggie. Master John catch you alone in the kitchen again?"_

"_I can't keep running away, one of these days he's not going to…"  
_

"_Maggie, you can't let him…what he takes, my father think he owns. He'd kill you." He stood up and crossed the dirt floor and pulled her into a hug. She had been a breath of air in the stifling atmosphere of the Howlett farm. She'd been hired about a month ago, Elizabeth had fired the last cook after she showed up pregnant, demanding money from Master John. Maggie Burk was the replacement. _

"_I'm a good girl. I don't want to…I just want to do my job and send money home to my mother." _

"_I know."_

"_What can I do?"_

"_We've got ta get you out of here. He won't keep taking no, and my father will figure out its you he's chasin and will be after you too." She cried against his shoulder, then wiped her eyes and glanced at a basket of late potatoes. _

"_Guess I should peel those for dinner tonight so I have an excuse to be down here." She said with a sigh. He sat on the step next to her and used the knife he used to trim his nails to help her peel enough potatoes for the house for dinner. "James is sick again, that nurse of his, Rosie, was sent into town to get the doctor again."_

"_Jimmy's always sick." No one knew he knew, the big secret that James was HIS brother, not John Howlett's son…that every maid that showed up pregnant was from his father…John Howlett couldn't sire a child to save his life. He whispered "I'm not going to let what happened to them happen to you." _

_I need to get back to the kitchen. Thank you, Victor. We're both only children, I wish you could really protect me."_

"_I will." He snarled it. _

_She turned and carried the basket of peeled potatoes up the stairs. "Coast is clear, I think your father went into town."_

"_I'll just go check on Jimmy then." He said. He waited until she was out of the cellar before sneaking out himself. No one knew he hid there and he liked to keep it that way._

He shook his head and picked up the card on the floor. She'd dropped it, in her hurry to leave the house. He sniffed the card, and was shocked to pick up a faint scent…familiar, from his long lost past and yet completely fresh. He snarled and pocketed the card…he had more than his past to investigate now.

XXXXXXXXXX

Six months later.

Maggie woke with a start. She'd had that dream again, of sitting on an old fashioned train in a small town, snow still packed between buildings on an early spring day. A hand had landed hard on the back of her neck, dragging her and her small carpetbag down from the car, onto the mud road and between two of those buildings. He'd been huge, dark red hair and beard; his breath stank of alcohol and hate. He'd said something in the dream but she never could remember what it was, just him throwing her skirts up, his foot on her belly as he unfastened his pants and knelt, hands forcing her knees apart, pouncing like an animal as he forced himself into her. She remembered the pain, remembered shame, and remembered a face…not the rapist but a young boy, a boy she knew she was going to disappoint, and a name…Victor.

She shook her head. The new chef was working out well at the restaurant and she was finally going to get that vacation she'd been planning. Nat was great, and it helped that they carried a similar mutant gene. She blessed the day that Nat Creed had shown up in her life, and if it wasn't for the fact that the dreams were getting worse, her life would be close to perfect.

She looked at the clock and realized that she wouldn't get back to sleep, the alarm was about to go off. She threw back the covers and turned off the clock. She wasn't going to be back for two weeks, and even though her neighbors wouldn't hear the vibration clock she still didn't like the idea of disturbing anyone.

She grabbed the bags, packed last night, and put them outside the bedroom door. She grabbed the jeans, sweater and boots she'd laid out and grabbed clean underwear and a bra from her drawer. She opened the bathroom door, and reached into the shower to turn on the water as hot as she could get it. She always felt like she needed to wash after that dream. It wasn't the act, or even the certainty that the dream ended in her death, it was what she did in the dream, what she said. She could remember only bits and pieces of the chant from the dream but she knew, somehow it was not a prayer, but a curse…and she woke up feeling dirty and ashamed every time she had the dream.

She scrubbed herself until she felt normal again, and then slipped out of the shower, drying the flecks of blood off her skin. She looked at the fresh growth of skin on her face and neck, one particularly deep cut from the hairline over her left eye, across her eyelids, nose and cheek to her right ear was still healing. She didn't know why but every time she woke from that dream she scrubbed and scraped and scratched, not wanting to look at herself in the mirror until she knew she had clean, new skin covering the horror underneath.

She turned off the water and pulled on her undergarments and walked out of the bathroom.

"That was a little harsh." She started at the sound of Nat's voice. The dream had her spooked, she'd forgotten that her assistant chef was coming by today to take her to rent a car, and hadn't caught her scent.

"Bad dream again." She pulled on her jeans and sweater, and then sat in a chair to pull on her boots.

"Have you talked to anyone, my dad swears by his therapist."

"No, they wouldn't understand…"

"Yeah that's what he used to think – 'til mom died. Even before…when he had to do some therapy for work, he'd not opened up like he did to this guy."

"Your mom died last year didn't she."

"Yeah about six months before I came to work for you. I never was big on the whole college thing, so mom did the course in Paris for a year after I dropped out of the second school. I'd just graduated and come home when…it happened."

"You said your dad took off?"

"He did – for a while, said he had to go home and figure some stuff out. He's been in touch, keeps sending stuff to the kids, but I haven't heard from him in about a month. He said last time he called that he'd found something disturbing and he'd let me know how it went when he had the chance."

"You're worried about him?"

"Yeah – he's my Dad…I know I shouldn't worry, he keeps telling me he's been doing this since Noah grounded the ark, but I don't always believe that old story. He's not as tough as he wants everyone to believe sometimes, and Mom's death was really hard on him…and the baby."

"Your mom was pregnant, you never told me that?"

"Yeah – on her way to her first doctor's appointment when the driver hit her." Nat's eyes were welling up.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you think about it."

"It's okay; I just miss her so much." Maggie stood up and hugged her.

They stood there for a moment, then Nat said "Let's go get you that car."

XXXXXXXX

Five Days Later

She couldn't believe the damned car had stalled, in the middle of a blizzard, no where near the resort she was going to. The GPS couldn't even get a signal where she was, lost in the Canadian wilderness. She stayed with the car, waiting to see if someone would come along to at least help her get to a town, but so far no luck.

The forest came right up to the road on both sides and she kept looking to see if maybe there was a house or some kind of lights somewhere, someplace she might be able to get warm, maybe call a tow truck, but so far no luck.

She opened the driver's side door, to try to clear the drift against the side of the car, but it was already halfway up the sedan's side. She groaned and moved to the passenger side of the front seat. That was when she saw the light flickering in the distance, and made her decision to strike for it. Even with her healing, this cold could kill her if she got too cold. She'd had one mistake, when she was younger, right after the healing developed. She'd thought she was invincible and dared a friend to lock her in a walk in freezer. Her core body temperature had dropped so low she'd been in a coma for a month. After that she tended to avoid the cold. The only reason she was in this godforsaken place was the promise she'd made to meet her brother at the resort. He liked to ski, something she hated but he'd made her promise to meet him that she wouldn't have to get out in the ice, the resort had a heated pool and hot tub and spa, his treat.

She moved slowly through the snow, losing sight of the light, and then it would flicker again, still in the same place. The wind was biting and she could feel her toes going numb. She hated the damned cold, but the light seemed to be getting closer. The way it flickered, and stayed in one place made her think it was a fire – or fireplace through a window, and that meant warmth.

She staggered out of the woods and nearly collapsed in shock…it was a fire – of sorts, it was a small church with candles lit inside, the door open. She walked towards it, barely noticing, in the blowing snow the outlines of other buildings around. She walked inside and held her hands out over the candles, the slight heat they were putting out a welcome reprieve to the bitter numbness of the cold.

There were several more candles around a book, sitting on a pedestal, but not any bible she'd ever seen. She glanced at it and stopped in shock, it was a registry – marriage registry, the month of April, 1845 the page it was open to. Three quarters of the way down the page she looked in shock at the names Victor Creed married Margaret Burk, April 16, 1845.

"Who are…MAGGIE!" She turned and saw the horror from her nightmare, dark hair and beard, wearing a long dark leather coat, pants and shirt…and held her hand up to try to fend him off. He charged down the aisle of the church, and the last thing she saw were his lips moving as she fell.

XXXXXXXX

He'd seen her stagger of the woods, he could tell she was half frozen, but he kept getting a strange scent. He was used to the scent now, he'd tracked down anything and everything Maggie had ever touched in her short life, and it surrounded him in his new home – cabin really. He'd bought the whole place ten years after she'd died, forced everyone out and locked it away like a time capsule, doing all the maintenance himself, not letting anything change…for over a century. Finding it again – and finding the truth about so many things in his past was an investigation he wasn't finished with.

She was standing at the book when he pushed open the half closed door to the church. He wanted those doors open all the time. He came here a lot to remember that day…and what he'd lost. Seeing her – smelling her standing there he'd rushed forward, and made it just in time to catch her as she fell. She looked like Maggie, smelled like Maggie, but he knew his Maggie had died on April 16, 1845; he'd buried her broken bloody body himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay – I've been reading over some of my older stuff and…I have a new plot … well not bunny, they frighten the kitty cat, we'll call it a Plot Squirrel for Victor's sake and actually this will be a sequel to Support. To summarize, Victor is a federal marshal who married the mother of his child who happened to be the only police officer who ever managed to arrest him, and hold him long enough to have to get a lawyer – and the mother of his only child to date, Natalie Creed.

There is one major plot change between this and the prior story and that is the origin of Victor Creed. For this story I am using the Wolverine Origins story, and will explain why he told the much harsher version of his early life to his wife and child during the course of this story…Lets just say Wolverine's not the only one that Stryker F**ked in the head.

I don't own them, I'm not sure I'd want to own Victor…what am I saying...but I don't more's the pity.

What Goes Around Comes Around – Again, and Again, And Again

Chapter

Warmth was the first thing she noticed, followed by sound. She could hear someone moving around and she kept herself still, not sure what was going on. The next thing that came was smell...confusing frightening smells, her own scent, but old, very very old, and his...there was something faintly familiar about it, like she'd smelled it before, but not strong enough to make an association with.

"I know you're awake." He snarled. She cringed but opened her eyes. He was carrying a tray with a bowl and glass walking across the small room. She started to sit up and noticed she was covered in a rabbit skin blanket, laying on a small settee, early 19th century at least. He set the tray down on a table and moved as if to help her. She cringed and he backed off, confusing her even more. She struggled and finally managed to get into a sitting position against the arm of the settee.

"Its stew, rabbit stew." He said as he handed her the tray. "and hot tea. You were nearly hypothermic when I brought you here."

She just nodded at him and set the tray across her knees on the blanket. She sniffed the stew and didn't detect anything except some tarragon and rosemary, a little salt, the distinct smell of cooked rabbit, carrots and, this surprised her, parsnips. She picked up the spoon and took a taste of the broth. The tarragon was too strong but otherwise it was edible.

She sipped the tea, a commercial grade orange pekoe, noting the natural honey that he'd sweetened it with had a distinctive tang.

"So...cat got your tongue?" He sat down in a large chair across the roaring fireplace. She shook her head, and glanced around the room. It was a strange mixture of large furniture pieces and smaller, delicate antiques. The kitchen area had an old fireplace with a brick oven on one side and a sink with a hand pump on the other. She realized that for the first time in years her eyes weren't aching from the harsh artificial light of the modern world. There was a hurricane lamp on the table next to his chair, and a set of hand carved stairs leading up to a second floor.

"Who..." She started to ask, but he jumped and glared at her, a low growl coming from his chest. "are you?" she finished.

"Not your concern." He snarled again, getting up and storming back to the kitchen area. He brought the pot of stew from the fireplace there and she smelled burning flesh as he ladled more stew into her bowl. She watched him put the pot back on the fire and realized the smell was his hand burning. He hadn't used anything to protect it.

"Your hand?" She started to sit up, burns were something she had quite a bit of experience with, and they hurt even if they healed quickly.

"Again, not your concern. Now shut the fuck up, you sound too much like her too." he growled and stormed up the stairs.

She sat there eating her stew and shivered with something other than cold. Not fear, although there was a little bit of that, this was more like what people called "someone walking on your grave" and she looked for some window or something to let her know what the weather was like outside. He'd evidently saved her, but for what, why, and who was the 'her' he'd mentioned. She threw back the blanket, relieved that she was still in her sweater and jeans, and noticed her boots and parka drying near the fire. She started to set the tray on the table when he came bounding down the stairs again on all fours.

"DON"T!" he snarled, grabbing the tray out of her hand, knocking over the half empty cup of tea. "I don't want you touching her things, bad enough you had to sleep on the damned settee, now it won't smell like her anymore." He stalked to the kitchen, dropping the tray on a table, and grabbing a cloth to clean up the spilled tea. She started to stand but he just glared at her as he knelt on the floor, wiping the tea carefully up, blotting the doily on the table with extreme care, and that was when she noticed his hands, claws rather.

"You're a feral...like me." She said, looking at him really for the first time. His hair was dark, darker than the man in her dreams, his eyes pitch black, not the dark blue from her dream, and he was actually bigger. His face was ruggedly handsome, and suddenly she recognized him. Nat had shown her several family photos.

"Victor Creed? Nat's father?"

"You...ahhh SHIT!" He growled even louder, and turned on her, pinning her to the back of the settee. "You're Nat's BOSS!"

"Friend...and boss." She said, shaking a little in fear.

"Well that fucking changes a few plans." He snarled again and stormed back up the stairs.

XXXXXXXX

He hadn't expected her to recognize him...damn it now he couldn't just kill her and get away with it, Nat would kill him. She was a ghost, something long dead and he'd intended to put her in the ground with her namesake after he'd found out what she knew - if anything - about what was going on.

He picked up a small piece of cloth from a box and looked around for someplace to put it. It was an embroidered kerchief, one he'd seen Maggie wear several times to church when the servants from the farm were allowed to attend. He set it out on the small, rough chest at the foot of the bed, as if she were dressing to attend service, and then walked out of the room. He'd managed to recreate that room, the exact replica of her servants quarters at the farm, only one or two pieces of furniture weren't original, and it was the room where her scent was the strongest.

_"Here let me help you with that." He said as she tried to reach a pitcher hanging from a hook out of her reach. _

_"Thank you, Victor." She smiled as he handed it to her. _

_"How's Jimmy today?" he asked._

_"Not any better, still running fever and tucked in bed." She said as she pumped water into the pitcher._

_"VICTOR! Get out of my kitchen." Elizabeth stormed into the room. "Maggie, where is my tea?"_

_"Making it now Mistress Elizabeth." Maggie said, bobbing a quick curtsey._

_"Stop distracting my help, Victor, the only reason you are allowed in the house is because James finds you amusing." The woman sneered at him. Victor just glared, and nodded his head._

_"If you are ever late getting my tea again you worthless piece..." He could hear Elizabeth starting in on Maggie and a low growl escaped his lips. It wasn't just the men of the household he was going to have to try to protect her from. She'd never mentioned that Elizabeth was like this with her._

_He waited at the top of the stairs, as she came out of the kitchen. "Elizabeth, you're drunk." Master John said as he stepped from the study. "Give the poor girl a break."_

_"Well that's more than you want to do, I know what you want to give her, you pig." Elizabeth snarled at John. Victor watched silently. Master John slapped his wife, knocking her to the ground. "If it wasn't for James, you'd kill me and replace me as quickly as you send the maids away." she continued from the floor._

_"Just because you gave me an heir, doesn't mean you are out of danger. I might decide I need a backup and I don't think you want Logan's tender touch again." He snarled at her. "Now go sober up."_

_"You leave that girl alone, John. She's not like the others. Her mother is a friend of mine and I'm NOT going to have to explain why we had to turn her out because you couldn't control your baser urges."_

_"DON'T give me orders, Elizabeth. She's my property." he snarled, grabbing the woman by the back of her hair. Victor heard another growl, and looked toward the front doors. His father was standing there. He had to get Maggie out of this household, NOW._

He walked slowly down the stairs. He had no idea what he was going to do now, Nat was too close to this woman, this imposter, to kill her, but he couldn't leave her alive...not now, not when he was so close to finding answers.

XXXXXX

She walked to the door and opened it. He didn't come back down the stairs so she hoped he didn't consider her a prisoner. The snow was still blowing, hard and she couldn't see two feet out from the door. She felt better, knowing who he was, what he was. A US Federal Marshal certainly helped her feel a little safer, even if he was snapping and snarling at her.

She walked back over to the settee, and curled back up under the blanket. She remembered something Nat had told her, that her father was afraid of rabbits...wouldn't hunt or kill them for any reason...something had changed, and that started to make her nervous again. She saw her purse strap sticking out from under her parka and stood back up and grabbed it. The GPS and her cell phone were inside, and she hoped there was some kind of signal. Both devices were completely dead, she dropped them back into her purse and curled up again under the blanket in defeat. She rolled onto her side so she could watch the fire and drifted off to sleep.

_"There you are, you cunt." The voice started her as the hand descended on the back of her neck. She gripped the handle of her carpet bag in terror as Logan dragged her from the car._

_He pushed her in front of him, his nails digging into her neck, and she whimpered._

_"Shut up, bitch, no one will help you, not Master John, not my whelp of a son, Victor. Its just you and me now." She trembled. He didn't know - couldn't know, she had to protect Victor._

_He pushed her down in the mud between the mercantile and bank and kicked her, knocking the breath out of her as well as rolling her onto her back. He grinned at her, snarling as he placed his heavy boot on her belly. _

_"You ain't escapin'...what's Master John's is mine...and if he's had a taste of you...I'm going to too. You are nothin' but a fuckin' whore, not good enough for my son...but plenty good enough for me." He snarled as he threw her skirt up, unfastened his pants and knelt on the ground next to her. She tried to close her eyes as he forced her knees apart, but he smacked her across the face. _

_"You're gonna watch me fuck you bitch...and if you're good enough I might let you live."_

_She screamed as he plunged into her, ripping the innocence she'd promised to Victor that morning, she felt like he was ripping her apart. Her mind went blank, but her mouth started to move, chanting an ancient blessing her mother had taught her._

_"Soul to soul, bound for all time. My love for you eternal shall be, watch over and protect you all your days.." She started._

_"SHUT UP BITCH!" he snarled hitting her again but it didn't silence her._

_"Soul to soul, heart to heart, never alone never apart, my life and yours forever entwined, all through life and long after death." She screamed the last word as his hand descended upon her again, silencing her forever._

She woke to hands shaking her, his face...Victor's face hovering over her, shouting. She screamed in horror...her body trembling at the full force of the dream. He slapped her, hard and she collapsed back against the settee.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" he roared at her.

"A nightmare...I've had it for years...life actually. My mother was terrified when I told her about it as a child...had me in therapy for years to try to get rid of it." Said softly, rubbing the cheek he'd slapped, her fingers sticky with blood.

"What kind of nightmare."

"This is the first time I can actually remember all of it...I'm on a train...some man named Logan pulls me off, down an alley and rapes me...then kills me." She said simply.

"Then why...at the end you were saying something..." He looked at her, and she was shocked by what she saw in his eyes...smelled in his scent. He was confused...and afraid, very very afraid.

"I don't know...it was some kind of chant or something...I think I was saying it so I didn't feel what he was doing to me..."

"No...it is more than that...I heard those words, once before. I was walking home, after putting my wife on a train to get her to safety...those words I could hear them in my brain and I knew something was wrong. I got back, but the train was gone. I knew...knew she hadn't been on it and I went looking...I found her body, raped and bloody between two buildings in town...I could smell my father all over her and I knew he'd killed her. I carried her out of there, buried her where no one could find her grave, and went home...two days later my father was dead, but not by my hand, my brother killed him." He was whispering the last.

"Mr. Creed..." she started.

"No...you can't be her."

"I don't..." she started again.

"Don't feel sorry for me..." he snarled.

"I'm not, you idiot..." she suddenly snapped. "I'm trying to say this is the first time I've had that dream and NOT wanted to rip my face off in shame." She snarled the last.

"What?"

"My mother had to stop me as a child, when I'd wake up she'd put mitts on my hands so I couldn't claw my face. Once the healing kicked in and the claws even that didn't stop me. That was why she had me in therapy. She thought I'd been molested or something and was trying to find out who..."

"Why are you ashamed..."

"Those words, at the end...somehow in the dream I think they're a blessing, but when I wake up, somewhere between waking and sleep, they turn into a curse...and I'm ashamed of what I did to him in the dream."

"The man that kills you?"

"No, the boy I loved..." she whispered.

"Maggie?" He looked at her, holding her face between his hands, staring into her eyes as if looking for something he knew.

"Yes."

"No...I mean my Maggie." His lips brushed hers and she pulled back, afraid.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"When the snow stops...I'll show you." He said, a look of awe and fear on his face.

XXXXXXXXX

Creed had a woman with him...taking him out wasn't going to be as easy as planned. The bitch was dead...that had been an easy kill to set up, but now, the Marshal was making things very difficult. Next would be the kid...they'd all pay.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay – I've been reading over some of my older stuff and…I have a new plot … well not bunny, they frighten the kitty cat, we'll call it a Plot Squirrel for Victor's sake and actually this will be a sequel to Support. To summarize, Victor is a federal marshal who married the mother of his child who happened to be the only police officer who ever managed to arrest him, and hold him long enough to have to get a lawyer – and the mother of his only child to date, Natalie Creed.

There is one major plot change between this and the prior story and that is the origin of Victor Creed. For this story I am using the Wolverine Origins story, and will explain why he told the much harsher version of his early life to his wife and child during the course of this story…Lets just say Wolverine's not the only one that Stryker F**ked in the head.

I don't own them, I'm not sure I'd want to own Victor…what am I saying...but I don't more's the pity.

What Goes Around Comes Around – Again, and Again, And Again

Chapter

He growled at her for the rest of the evening – and into the night. He didn't say anything else, just snarled whenever she caught his eye. He finally piled several large logs on both fires and climbed the stairs. She just huddled under the blanket, she wasn't about to follow a madman.

She lay there watching the fire, the vividness of the dream as frightening as the noises coming from above her. She wasn't about to go and find out exactly what it was he was doing, the scents were confusing enough, fear, anger, the salt of tears, the tang of lust in the back of her throat…she just wasn't sure who that particular smell came from, her or him.

She hadn't expected him to be so young – although he couldn't be, not if he had actually…he had to be almost two hundred years old…it was impossible, and yet she knew her factor could heal almost anything – why not age as well?

She drifted off, wondering about his comment about his brother.

XXXXXX

He sat in his room, the computer screen the only light in the room. He was tempted to call Nat, let her know her friend was alright…but he wasn't sure she was, yet. He still might kill her, and he didn't want his daughter pissed at him for killing her.

The dream she'd had, the scents her body had produced, it was almost as if her body was recreating the event. He'd even scented his father on her skin, but that was impossible. And the words…those where what bothered him the most…

His email was full from inquiries he'd sent out earlier, while she was asleep.

Creed:

I have no idea why you are asking about ancient blessings and curses, this is SHIELD for God's sake, not a witches coven.

Nick

Creed:

Do not bother me with inconsequentals…either accept the job or not, your ancient mumbo jumbo has no bearing on the coming war.

Eric

Vic:

Long time no hear…I can see if I can get Wanda ta tell me something about that stuff you sent…if she'll talk to me after what happened…again. Not sure she'll know anything though. Will let you know if she does.

Mort

Victor:

I don't know why you contacted me, I don't even know why I'm doing this, I still don't believe that whole 'brother' crap you laid on me last time, but Bluebutt says it's legit. Maybe that's why I'm doin' this. I talked to some of the 'pagan' types around here. Evidently what you stumbled across was some kind of ancient Celtic blessing, something to do with a hand fasting or some such shit. Anyway one of the kids gave me the number to her high priestess. I'm gonna call her and have her call the cell number you gave me. Maybe she can tell ya something about it.

Logan (I don't care what you say)

He glared at the last line…He hated that name. Hated everything to do with it, and his own damned brother betrayed him by taking it as his own. He'd deal with Jimmy on it later, but this looked like the most promising lead, especially if the woman called.

Almost as if reading his mind the cell phone on the table started to vibrate.

"Creed" He snarled.

"Mr Creed. I will not give you my name, but the words I see in front of me, sent by your brother are disturbing." Said an older voice on the end of the line; with all the pagan shit going on he'd expected someone younger.

She chuckled. "Didn't expect someone my age, hrm."

"No. What do you know about it?"

"It is a part of a ceremony, marriage ceremony that was practiced in ancient times. The public part, or hand fasting, bound a couple together for a year and a day. If at the end of that time they chose to be together forever, then a small gathering of their family and friends would be summoned and they would recite this chant, as a second fasting – or binding between them. There are legends of it working – too well, binding them even after death. There is one tale of a man who's wife was raped and killed not long after the ceremony was completed…he went insane, hunted down everyone that had anything to do with her death, and then thrust his sword into his own heart upon her grave."

"What if…what if the person being bound couldn't die?"

"That is impossible."

"No…its not, just answer the question."

"If the binding worked and if the bond was tested by death, the surviving one, if they could not die, would go insane trying to avenge the death of the other partner; they would become violent, suicidal almost, trying to join their missing half. It would make them a monster, unable to live within society, locked in a personal hell of hate and pain that would never leave."

"Is it…possible…that the lost partner could…come..back?

"Reincarnation is always possible…the question is, would it work, would it matter, and would it save the lost soul wandering in the darkness? I don't know. All I do know is…this is powerful magic you sent me, old magic, strong magic…and I do not know which of you is the soul wandering the dark. Watch your back, Sabretooth, there are things in motion you do not understand, if you don't want to lose her again, watch your back." The line went dead.

He clicked the phone closed and looked at his perimeter alarm system. There was a blip, just one, on the outer edge. It never came closer, and he did not recognize the scent when he found where it rested…all he knew was it was human, and full of hate.

He sat there all night, the bright light of dawn reflecting on the new snow, reflecting in through the window in his room. He would show her, and then decide what to do with her.

XXXXXXX

Maggie woke with a crick in her neck, a pounding headache, and a growling in her ears.

"Get up. The snow stopped." He snarled.

She groaned and threw back the fur blanket. The room was cool, the fires had both died to embers and he was wearing a parka and heavy snow pants. He dropped a set on the end of the settee.

"Get dressed." He snarled. She shrugged and pulled on her boots and then the thermal pants over them. He glared at the leather on her feet. "If you'd wear sensible shoes, your toes wouldn't get as cold." He growled.

"I wear what's fashionable…I run a high profile restaurant and I can't be seen in sensible shoes." She snapped back.

"Idiot." He snarled, grabbing her arm and dragging her out the door. She tried to keep up but there were a few times when she just let him drag her, her footing lost on the slick ice and snow underfoot. They came to a clearing in the woods, an awning that was built from natural materials, and under it, a beautifully carved stone, with the bust of a woman that if Maggie looked in a mirror, it would be the same face. Under the bust were the words MARGARET BURK CREED, BELOVED WIFE, TAKEN TO OUR LORD APRIL 16, 1845. She blanched…the beauty of the scene only added to the stark terror she was starting to feel.

"Is this…?"

"Yes. Where I buried her." She looked at him and saw the pain etched on his face…and something else, her nose told her it was guilt.

"You didn't kill her." She said quietly.

"No, I left her alone, didn't wait until the train left because I was embarrassed…she kissed me and I didn't know what to do. If I'd stayed I could have stopped him, saved her, but I was afraid of what I was feeling…"

"You were young."

"How did you know that?"

"You mentioned…"

"No I didn't." He snarled at her, grabbing her arm and dragging her back into the woods, but not toward the cabin. They stepped into another large clearing, with a large house nestled back to one side. He dragged her up the cleared driveway, onto the porch and shoved the doors open.

He pushed her toward one side of the split staircase and she caught herself on the bottom step, falling forward and hitting her head on one of the runners. She felt the blood running as the cut healed

"This was where he died…the man that killed her, gutted by his bastard son, Master John's heir. I took that boy and we ran…as far away from here as we could get. He felt guilty for killing him…I told him he deserved it. That there was nothing to feel guilty over."

She rolled over on the steps, pushing herself into a sitting position. He was sitting on the other half of the split steps, just looking at her.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you know." His eyes were black and filled with rage.

"Know what?"

"Everything…I pieced together most of it, or at least what I could find at this late date…but there are still holes, still answers to questions I can't find…and somehow you have them locked in that pretty head of yours." He snarled the last like an insult.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She trembled; something about this quiet seething rage terrified her.

"Fear, Anger…only need one more element and then I won't care anymore."

"Care about what?"

"If you live or die."

She blanched…the terror growing. Suddenly he sprang, on all fours, across the small divide between them and pinned her to the steps, runners digging deep into her back.

"I could kill you, even with the healing factor. Rip your head right off." He snarled in her face, his hot breath feeling colder than the freezing wind coming through the open doors.

"But you won't." She said, calmly.

"Not yet." He snarled, grabbing her arm again, dragging her out of the house and down a cleared lane. They must have walked for miles when she saw the church spire through the trees. It was a town. She felt hope spring in her chest. He was taking her someplace where there were people…until the trees cleared and she saw that it was a ghost town. The rusted train tracks lead to nowhere, the buildings were preserved, even the dresses for sale in the shop windows. She tried to take it all in as he dragged her between two buildings and shoved her down on the ground.

"Can you feel it? Tell me you don't feel what this place is…that you can't smell it." He snarled, "I considered it, killing you here, so your blood and hers would mix, the question was how to get you into my trap…and then you just fell in…and I can't…not now." He whispered the last; as he leaned down to take her hand. She was stunned by the sound of something hitting the stone wall next to him, watching a flake of stone scrape his face, and then the sound of the gun shot, and then she felt a pain in her side, just as she heard the second shot. She looked down and saw her parka was leaking feathers…and blood.

"Stay down." He roared, putting his body between hers and the gunman. He seemed to take scent and scan the horizon, then turned, grabbed her up in his arms and took off running back into the shelter of the woods.

"What was that?" 

"Not part of the plan." He snarled as he looked in front of them and let out a very low menacing growl. She hoped to hell that growl wasn't meant for her. She looked the direction he was facing and could see the smoke billowing from the cabin roof, barely visible on the cliff overlooking the town.

"I hope you have a plan for this." She snapped.

"Is that wound healed?"

"Yes."

"Good." He veered left to a canvas covered object under an overhang of rock. He dropped her in the snow and yanked the cover off, revealing an old motorcycle underneath.

"You don't think I'm getting on that thing do you?" She yelled…as chips flew out of the tree next too her…she didn't think, just jumped on the bike behind him. He gunned it and took off through the woods, and she just flung her arms around him. _Here I am on a motorcycle which I hate, behind a man that wants to kill me, but doesn't, being shot at by God knows what, I have completely lost my mind._

XXXXXXXXXX

He felt her arms around his waist, her body pressed against his against the wind, the smell of her anger and fear driving him forward. He had to protect her, had to get her someplace safe…had to find out who was trying to kill him…and her. He'd done extensive background on her, there wasn't anyone or anything that would put her in this danger but him…He grinned. Well plan A was out…now for plan B.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay – I've been reading over some of my older stuff and…I have a new plot … well not bunny, they frighten the kitty cat, we'll call it a Plot Squirrel for Victor's sake and actually this will be a sequel to Support. To summarize, Victor is a federal marshal who married the mother of his child who happened to be the only police officer who ever managed to arrest him, and hold him long enough to have to get a lawyer – and the mother of his only child to date, Natalie Creed.

There is one major plot change between this and the prior story and that is the origin of Victor Creed. For this story I am using the Wolverine Origins story, and will explain why he told the much harsher version of his early life to his wife and child during the course of this story…Lets just say Wolverine's not the only one that Stryker F**ked in the head.

I don't own them, I'm not sure I'd want to own Victor…what am I saying...but I don't more's the pity.

What Goes Around Comes Around – Again, and Again, And Again

Chapter 4

She sat on the cracked vinyl of the diner seat, watching him at the only working payphone in the place. He was keeping his voice low, so she didn't catch every word and it was driving her insane.

"...not sure. No, she's not...can't help...incarn...Maggie..."

"Can I take your order?" She jumped as the waitress popped her gum at her.

"Can you give us a minute?" She smiled up at the woman.

"Sure." The woman shrugged, and glared at Victor's back as he slammed down the phone. "He gonna pay for that?"

"I'm sure he will." Maggie trembled.

"Stupid fuckin' Runt, I ain't callin him Logan." He muttered as he came back to the booth. "Five eggs scrambled, sausage rare, bacon, biscuits and gravy and a side of pancakes, same for her." He snapped. "And coffee, lots of coffee."

"Thanks...I think." she snapped at him. He glared at her and waited for the waitress to leave before speaking low.

"I don't know who was shooting at us. The scent isn't familiar to me, and I can't find any reason why someone would be taking pot shots at you."

"I need to get to Arwen's Peak, my brother is there." She hissed back.

"That new ski resort? What the hell?"

"That's where I was going when the blizzard hit. I told him I'd meet him there."

"Who's your brother? I didn't see anything about a brother in your background?"

"Background...you ran a..." She stopped as the waitress brought them their coffee. She seethed while the woman took her time pouring their coffee, leaning down and trying to show Victor her cleavage. "background check on me." She hissed when the woman was out of ear shot.

"Of course, Nat works for you, you think I'm not gonna check out anyone that has any influence on my family." He growled back. Somewhere on the ride here, the madman had slipped back and he seemed fairly normal.

"What exactly was all of that, back there?" She asked, taking a sip of her coffee. She couldn't hide the wince.

"Too hot?"

"No...crap." She muttered.

"I'm not exactly sure, I mean a part of me is definitely sure, but I still don't have all the answers. Someone is trying to kill one of us."

"Yeah, you trying to kill me. What the fuck?"

"Darlin' you're pretty mouth doesn't need to use words like that." He grinned at her. If he hadn't been trying to kill her this morning she'd think he was flirting with her. "I'm...confused." He said, leaving it at that when the waitress brought their food and dropped hers in front of her.

"Plate's hot Darlin'." She simpered at Victor placing his in front of him.

"Thanks." She waited a moment for him to say something more, then sniffed and walked away. Yeah he had that effect on people.

"So, back to the whole trying to kill me thing..." She said around a mouth full of eggs, trying not to let her disdain for the place show too much.

"I ain't gonna explain it here, I don't even know all of it myself, I told ya that." He snarled, shoveling food into his mouth quickly. "Finish eating, we need ta get back on the road."

"Where are we going?"

"Arwen's Peak you said..." He snapped, glaring at her over his coffee cup. She just nodded and picked at her food.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He watched her pick. Damned frail didn't know what was good for her. He told her to eat fast so they could get back on the road. He felt safer in groups right now, if someone was shooting he hoped they didn't want to catch someone else in the crossfire. He still didn't know if it was him or the frail they were shooting at and that bothered him too. That and the fact that those had been high caliber rounds, big enough that if they hit he'd be taken down for a bit. The one that grazed her side had scared him. He knew she had a healing factor, and now he had an idea of how strong, but damn it she was his now, he'd made up his mind, and no one hurt what was his but him.

He growled at her to hurry up but she just kept picking at the food.

"What the hell's got into you?" He snapped. Her eyes flashed at him and he was surprised to see them fully black. Her scent still read uncertainty, fear, and a small amount of anger, but her feral side was out in full force.

"I don't know...I can't seem to control it." She growled, the first time he'd really heard the animal in her.

"We need to get moving. You're done." He snarled, throwing bills down on the table to cover the meal and grabbing her arm as she slid out of the booth. He noticed her nails were grown into claws and her fangs were prominent in her mouth. Something was wrong.

He dragged her to the bike, but she collapsed as he was mounting it. "Well SHIT!" He slapped her face, and when that didn't work he went looking for something other than a motorcycle to carry her in. There was a small used car lot across from the diner and he threw her over his shoulder and crossed the deserted street.

"I need somethin' quick." He told the man who came out to greet him.

"Is the young lady alright?"

"She's fine, just can't ride the bike anymore." He pointed to a halfway decent sedan. "I'll take that."

"Do you want a test drive first? The young lady can rest in the office."

He opened the door to the backseat and dropped her in. "No test drive. How much?"

"Three thousand, I can take five hundred down and..." He pulled out his wallet and handed the man four thousand dollars. "The name's Victor Creed. Here's my card, just get me the keys and mail me the title." He growled at the man, letting his fangs show just a bit. The man scurried into the office and returned quickly with a set of keys. He'd seen the man's eyes widen at the US Marshall's office business card. Sometimes that damned card opened more doors than his claws and fangs ever had in the past. He slid into the driver's seat and started the car. Surprisingly it had a full tank of gas and he pulled out of the lot and headed west. She moaned in the back seat and sat up slowly. He watched as she placed her hand on her head, and then winced at the feel of her claws.

"What's going on...what did you do to me?"

"I didn't do anything, somehow your mutation is out of control. I'm takin' you to the resort for now, maybe some rest will help." He sounded calmer than he felt. He knew, if she let herself she'd smell his fear. He hadn't been this afraid for anyone else since Nat had the twins. A cesarean section was dangerous for a human, for a feral mutant it had been pure torture. There had been a point that he didn't think she would make it, and had been ready to kill her boyfriend for putting her in that situation. That she still refused to marry the jerk - after yet another child, told him there was something his daughter didn't trust about the man she loved, and that made him want to gut the prick.

"What...you're afraid?" She asked. She knew the answer, and he didn't admit to fear.

"I don't know who's shooting at us, we're away from people again, and out on the open road where they could catch us at any time, your mutation is in the toilet, and I'm heading into a situation I don't know. Afraid, no, concerned yes." He lied.

"That's not what I smell." She muttered and he ripped into the steering wheel with his claws. The damned frail needed to learn when to shut the fuck up. It had nearly killed her twice this morning, while he was trying to make her understand - realize what - why - hell he didn't even understand himself. He looked in the mirror. The mutation helped him not see his Maggie in her face, helped him see her as someone else, someone that somehow had gotten under his skin. He still didn't understand what the old witch had said, still didn't know what she meant about wandering in the darkness, but he was going to find out.

Maybe he'd just drop her at the damned resort and take off. He didn't need her frail shit, didn't need her reminding him of how weak he'd once been...unable to save her.

_"Victor, I don't want to leave you." She whispered as he pulled her into a rough hug. The old pastor had done what they asked, after groaning about them being too young, and they'd left the church. He paid for her ticket out of the money Elizabeth had given him to get her to safety._

_"You have to, Maggie. I'll come get you at your mother's place soon. I can't leave James right now, or I'd come with you." He whispered against her hair. He was afraid, afraid for her, afraid of what his father would do, afraid of what they'd just done, marriage wasn't something he'd even thought about in his life, and now he was tied to this slip of a girl he barely knew. He was afraid for himself, his father would kill him if he found out he'd gotten her out of there. And James...he was sick, again, and needed him. He was his only family, the only one he trusted and he wasn't going to let Elizabeth poison him, or his father kill his only brother._

_"Victor, please, don't make me go. I can stay here, I can rent a room at the hotel until James is better and we can go together." She was pleading with her eyes, and he shook his head._

_"No, you get to your mother's you'll be safe there, he won't go that far to catch you." He brushed a strand of loose hair back from her face. "Now get on the train, Bunnyrabbit. I'll be there soon."_

_She nodded and then he felt her shift, her lips brushed across his and he was stunned. He didn't know what to do. He could hear the conductor telling people to get onboard, but he was frozen. Her scent, her lips were causing strange reactions in his body, he knew about rutting, he'd seen his father do it enough, so that reaction didn't surprise him, it was the overwhelming need to hold her, protect her, keep her safe from all harm that shocked him. _

_"Get on the train, Bunnyrabbit." He whispered against her lips. He felt her nod and pull away from him. He helped her get settled in the compartment, and then after closing the door and walking slowly until she couldn't see him anymore he took off running. He had to get away - whatever he was feeling was making him want to run - fast and far - to get away from it._

She had settled down in the back seat, only occasionally glaring at him in the rearview mirror. He was feeling it again, but this time he understood it. Dana had taught him what it meant, what it was to love another human being, and he didn't want to feel that for this frail that hadn't proven herself, that was a mocking ghost of his terror ridden past.


	5. Chapter 5

Okay – I've been reading over some of my older stuff and…I have a new plot … well not bunny, they frighten the kitty cat, we'll call it a Plot Squirrel for Victor's sake and actually this will be a sequel to Support. To summarize, Victor is a federal marshal who married the mother of his child who happened to be the only police officer who ever managed to arrest him, and hold him long enough to have to get a lawyer – and the mother of his only child to date, Natalie Creed.

There is one major plot change between this and the prior story and that is the origin of Victor Creed. For this story I am using the Wolverine Origins story, and will explain why he told the much harsher version of his early life to his wife and child during the course of this story…Lets just say Wolverine's not the only one that Stryker F**ked in the head.

I don't own them, I'm not sure I'd want to own Victor…what am I saying...but I don't more's the pity.

What Goes Around Comes Around – Again, and Again, And Again

Chapter 5

He pulled up in front of the nearly deserted ski lodge. She hoped her brother was still here. She climbed out of the car, hiding her hands in her jeans pocket and hoping that he'd do the talking at the front desk.

"Miss Burk." She turned around, there was a man in a hotel uniform. "Can I get your bags?"

"I don't have any." She said, and winced, but he didn't react to the fangs at all, which made her curious.

"This is Mr. Creed." She said introducing him. "Will there be a room available for him."

"Certainly, we don't open until next week."

"Open?"

"Yes, Miss Burk. Your brother's waiting in the lobby."

She walked in and Danny was standing there. "Hi sis." He grinned.

"What the hell is going on, the place isn't even open yet?" She said as he pulled her into a hug.

"Nope, I've been waiting on you."

"Me?"

"Yes, I was going to see if you'd do the set up and hiring for the restaurant."

"What?"

"I know you have the place in Chicago and you love it, but I'd really like something high class here, and I trust you to do it."

"Here...you want me...you own this?" She was confused.

"Lock stock and mortgage." He grinned.

"How did you...do I even want to know?" He was always getting into risky ventures, and this was yet another one.

"I've got some investors, I found this place a few years ago for sale in a tax auction so I bought it, I've been trying to get investors since, and now I've got some, we did a complete remodel, actually the west wing is still under construction, but the east wing, the lobby, the conference rooms, the ski lift and slopes are ready. So are the indoor pool and hot tub." He grinned. "I just need a head chef and staff for the restaurant, I've already ordered the food supplies, I called that new assistant of yours and told her you wanted to look over last month's orders for the restaurant and she faxed me the list and I ordered from that."

She just shook her head.

"Danny Burk, I swear I should kill you, I have been stranded in a blizzard, shot at, nearly killed, nearly blown up, and chased by a madman, just so I can open a restaurant in a ski resort and you KNOW how much I hate the cold."

"What the hell...Sis are you alright? I was getting worried when you hadn't called but I'd just figured you'd stopped someplace during the storm. And who's this?" He pointed his chin at Victor who was standing behind her, a low growl making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Victor Creed, Nat's father. He actually has a place near here and found me in the blizzard." Maggie said .

He brother held out his hand to shake Victor's. "Thank you for rescuing my sister."

"I didn't rescue her, I'm the madman she was talking about." Victor groweled.

Her brother dropped his hand, looking puzzled.

"He's like that. Can you put him in a room, and do you have someplace I can get a change of clothes." She said, feeling the weight of the day on her at last.

"Actually there's a boutique that is opening next week but I'll have them pull some things and send to your room." She was actually becoming impressed with her brother's accomplishment, even if she thought he was insane for doing it.

"Thanks, right now all I want to do is sleep, and see if I can get things back under control." She said softly.

"Yeah I noticed you were a little on the kitty side." He grinned.

Victor growled behind her again. "Danny, my room please."

He handed her a key card. "East wing, room number's on the card." A clerk from the desk walked over with a second key. "Your room's across the hall." He handed the key to Victor.

"Thanks but I'm not staying." Victor snarled.

"You need rest as much as I do, Creed." She snapped. "Besides there's still the matter of the sniper shooting at us."

"SNIPER!" Her brother snapped.

"Its complicated and I don't' want to explain...I'm not sure I can explain part of it. Just back off, alright." She snapped at Danny. He stepped back a bit and she knew her mutation was showing more than ever. She turned and grabbed the key from the clerk and handed it to Creed. "You owe me, an explanation at least."

He looked at her and then took the card. "One night, and then I'm goin' back to see what I can salvage."

"Victor I saw the smoke, the cabin is toast."

"I know. I've really lost her for good this time." His voice was soft with regret. A part of her wanted to comfort him, but then she remembered who he was talking about and just glared instead.

XXXXXXXXXX

Victor followed her to their rooms and watched as she opened her door. He nodded and opened his and walked in. The room was large, even by his standards with a single king sized bed, a full bathroom with a whirlpool tub big enough to soak it. He smiled a little as he remembered his 'bathroom battle' with Dana, he'd finally gotten the bathroom he wanted, but it had taken years for her to compromise on it.

He stretched out on the bed and wondered if they had a laptop he could use or buy here at the resort, or if he'd have to go back into town. He needed to check his emails.

He decided to rest just a little bit, and his eyes drifted closed.

_"Victor, put me down." Maggie laughed. He had her by her waist, holding her up so she could reach a pitcher._

_"What's wrong, afraid of heights." He laughed back._

_"Yes." She squealed._

_"BOY! Put that trollop down and get back to the hedges." She jumped in his hands and he nearly dropped her. Victor turned and glared at his father. Logan grinned at him and pushed him toward the door._

_"I know about you..." He heard his father whisper. He growled low as Logan's hands gripped her bottom through her skirt. "I'll get a taste of you yet." Logan glared at his son and walked out of the kitchen._

_"Victor." Elizabeth stood in the door, hair loose, dress disheveled. "You have to get Maggie out of here." She handed him a pouch with coins in it. "That's one month of pay, get her to the train, and Maggie, go home, tell your mother it wasn't safe for you to stay but I'll send more money as soon as I can. Here's your bag I packed everything I could find." She had a carpet bag in her hands. Maggie was pale and trembling._

_"I'll take her, Mrs. Howlett." Victor said. He took the bag, and Maggie's hand. She followed him quietly. They slipped out a side door. He saw his father grab a bottle of gin and head into their small cabin. He'd be drunk and passed out in a few hours so there was time to get her someplace safe._

_They slipped down the drive and walked toward town._

_"Maggie, I'm worried. Pa is likely to try to find you, if he thinks he's got a right." Victor said softly._

_"I'm scared." She whispered._

_He stopped in the road and pulled her into his arms. He didn't want her hurt, he didn't want her raped by his father. They separated and walked on. _

_"I don't want to be alone." She whispered._

_"Alone?"_

_"Ma sent me here hoping Miss Elizabeth could help me find someone to marry. No one at home will because of Pa...he owed everyone money when he died and Ma's trying to pay it off. There's eight of us, Ma can't afford a dowry, so there ain't anyone who would consider marrying me back home.' _

_"Married? Maggie..."_

_"I just don't want to be alone, a spinster the rest of my life." She wiped a tear from her cheek._

_"Well...you could marry me?" He said._

_"Victor?"_

_"I mean we can get ya to your Ma, and then I can come get ya when I can get away from the farm. Jimmy is sick, I'll have ta wait till he's better." He said softly, taking her hand as they walked._

_"I like you Victor, and yes. Yes I'll marry you." she said, and he smiled. He didn't know what this feeling was in his chest, but he was glad she'd said yes._

_They walked in silence for a while, and then she started talking again._

_"Ma's got six girls at home, my older brother Danny went off to join the army, so there's no one to work the farm but us girls. There'd be plenty of room for us to build a house near Ma and take care of the land."_

_Victor nodded. He knew farming, they could do it. He'd have to come back at some point and check on Jimmy, he wasn't going to leave his brother alone with John and Logan._

_"We can get some chickens, and Ma and I were talking about opening a restaurant in town to make more money to help pay off the debts." She was chattering on. He was only half listening as he started to make plans._

A loud noise woke him from the dream. He jumped up, claws out, looking around. He opened the door cautiously and looked up and down the hallway. Hers was closed, across the hall and he pressed against it to listen. He heard her breathing fast and her heart rate pounding. He knocked on the door.

"Victor?"

"Yeah its me." He said. She opened the door and he slipped into the room.

"What was that?" She asked.

"I don't know, it woke me up."

"Me too."

He looked down. She was wearing a robe...and not much else that he could see. He growled low.

"I wasn't staying in those clothes and my brother hasn't sent anything up yet." She said defensively.

"That wasn't...never mind, just stay here." He slipped back out the door and went looking for the source of the sound. Everyone in the lobby was moving toward the west wing and he could smell construction dust and blood. He walked over and saw her brother standing there.

"What happened?" Danny looked at him.

"Scaffold collapsed. We've got an ambulance on the way, one of the construction workers was hurt, but seems stable." Danny said.

"It just woke us up."

"Tell Maggie its no big deal, she can relax."

Victor nodded and turned back to the lobby. He walked back to the wing. She was standing at her door.

"Scaffold collapsed, one worker was hurt. You're brother said nothing to worry about." He opened his door.

"Victor, can we talk."

"Not now." He growled.

"Yes - now." She growled back. He turned and looked at her. The mutation was still active.

"Still not in control?"

"No."

He just nodded, and walked over to her door. She turned and walked in and sat down at the small dining set.

"Now I think I deserve some kind of explanation." She crossed her legs, robe falling open and he looked out the window to avoid the glimpse of her thigh.

"I told you about Maggie." He said softly.

"And somehow you think I'm some kind of reincarnation of her?"

"Maybe. I don't know about that part. You smell like her, you sound like her, you remember things that only she would know. I don't know what to think. Part of me wants to just make you as dead as she is just to end this. Part of me wants to hope it is some kind of reincarnation or something, and a part of me wants it to be just a bad coincidence."

"Well me dead isn't an option, reincarnation I'm afraid of the implications of that, coincidence, that sounds good to me." She snarled.

"I'm sorry for...well, I'm sorry, and if Nat's told you anything about me you know how rare that is." He snarled back.

"I'm sorry doesn't cut it." She snapped.

"SHIT, what do you want?"

"I want to know WHY? Why were you trying to kill me? Why is someone trying to kill you? What is all the crap that happened the last few days. Why do I feel like I know you?"

"Well...shit. I tried to explain the first one, I'm confused, you're too much like her, I mean she wanted to open a restaurant herself...as for the second, wish I fucking knew, and I need a computer or a cell phone to try to find some answers. The third, well shit how the fuck would I know how you feel, I'm not a fucking mind reader." He growled.

"Well, we can try to find a computer. Do you really not have any clue who is trying to kill you. And why can't I get this damned mutation back under control?"

"Can I see your wound?"

"What?"

"Where the bullet hit you."

She shifted and pulled the robe back, and he hissed. The wound was closed but puckered. "Are you sure it was a clean through and through, it looks infected."

"It still hurts. It seemed to heal up, but now its like its ripping open from the inside." She whimpered as he knelt next to her and probed it with his claw.

"This is gonna hurt, I can feel the bullet in there still." He said softly, and he bit back a moan. Her scent was intoxicating. She reminded him of a time when his hands weren't covered in blood, when he had hope of a life of peace, not fighting constant wars, of just farming and raising a family. He knew, after all these years that would have been impossible, but he'd still wanted it then.

He extended his claw just above the bullet and heard her wince, her blood smelling sweet. He pulled the piece of metal out of her body and watched as her skin closed behind. He looked at the mushroomed piece of metal and realized it had some kind of coating on it. He sniffed it, and the scent made him gag. It smelled like death...and reminded him of something...faint in the back of his mind.

"I need a computer." He said.

"Why?"

"Something about this bullet smells familiar."

"What do you mean, familiar."

"Dana and I had a case, ten years ago, well more than that, it went back twenty years, but the guy died of cancer before we could put him away. The son was arrested, and charged as an accomplice, got ten years because they couldn't prove he had anything to do with the big explosion, but he was the bomber for the house where his father lived. That blast nearly killed me and her."

"Nat's mom?"

"Yeah."

"It smells like something on that case?"

"There was a scent, in the house, I couldn't place it, but he'd threatened to kill Nat, and this smells like that house did."

"Do you think he figured out a poison that works on mutants?"

"Maybe, I need to get this to a lab to have it analyzed. And if it is him, I know the answer to who's trying to kill me." He realized his hand was resting on her thigh and yanked it back. She looked down at him.

"Victor..."

"I don't have time..."

"We don't have anything but time."

"Why."

She was looking over at the television that he hadn't even noticed, she had the volume off. He looked over, the radar showing the storm heading their way. "Well, fuck." He growled.

"They've been saying three to five days of blizzard conditions. All the roads are already closed, and they just closed the closest airport." He realized she was reading the ticker across the bottom.

"All we can hope for is that he's snowed in someplace too." He looked up at her.

"Is that all?"

"No..." He surged to his feet, grabbing her by her upper arms and pulling her up with him. He slammed her back against the wall, and surrendered to the urge that had been driving him for days. He leaned his head down and captured her mouth with his. He had to know, and moaned when her taste was the same. He felt her fangs scrape his lip, but that just made him moan louder. As he felt her legs wrap around his waist he knew he was lost. He turned around and dropped her on the bed. Her robe had come untied and he took in the beauty of her laying there, lips swollen from his kiss, eyes burning with feral rage and lust.

He reached to unfasten his pants, when there was a knock on the door. She jumped, and fastened her robe, blushing as she moved to the door.

"Your brother sent up these clothes for you, anything you don't want just call room service and they will take them back to the boutique."

"Thank you." She said as they brought in several bags and set them on the bed.

"I'll leave you to get dressed." Victor said, slipping out the door. He couldn't believe what he'd almost done. She wasn't Maggie, wasn't his wife. She was his daughter's best friend, and he couldn't possibly allow this to happen.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay – I've been reading over some of my older stuff and…I have a new plot … well not bunny, they frighten the kitty cat, we'll call it a Plot Squirrel for Victor's sake and actually this will be a sequel to Support. To summarize, Victor is a federal marshal who married the mother of his child who happened to be the only police officer who ever managed to arrest him, and hold him long enough to have to get a lawyer – and the mother of his only child to date, Natalie Creed.

There is one major plot change between this and the prior story and that is the origin of Victor Creed. For this story I am using the Wolverine Origins story, and will explain why he told the much harsher version of his early life to his wife and child during the course of this story…Lets just say Wolverine's not the only one that Stryker F**ked in the head.

I don't own them, I'm not sure I'd want to own Victor…what am I saying...but I don't more's the pity.

What Goes Around Comes Around – Again, and Again, And Again

Chapter 6

He was right. Her brother had found him a laptop and internet access. Daniel McFarlain had been released from jail a year and a half ago. He went through everything in Dana's file, but couldn't find any way to tie him to the accident. He just knew in his gut he'd finished his father's work and now he was coming after him…and Nat. He picked up the disposable cell phone Maggie's brother had provided.

"Dad, is everything okay?" She asked.

"No, Daniel McFarlain was released from prison eighteen months ago, with no probation. He's in the wind, and I think he's after me…and Maggie." He said, waiting for the explosion of questions from his girl.

"Maggie…how did…never mind. The bastard that nearly killed you and mom, the bomb maker?" Leave it to Nat to cut to the chase.

"Yes."

"Is…are you okay?"

"He took some pot shots at us yesterday, Maggie took a bullet intended to kill a feral but we got it out of her. We're at her brother's place now."

"Is she okay? She doesn't do well in the cold."

"She's fine."

"Isn't she the best? I'm so glad you met her, I was hoping to introduce you two at some point." She was gushing.

"Nat, I'm more worried about you and the kids. This punk's after me now but if he can't get to me, he's probably going to come after you. Call the Marshall's office there in Chicago and see if they can get at least a black and white on you until I can get there. It looks like we're going to be snowed in again for a few days, I won't be able to get there until after this storm." 

"Dad, I'll be fine, and the girls are just fine. You worry about Maggie." She said.

"Right now I'd rather kill your Maggie." He growled.

"REALLLY? OH Dad, you like her that much?" He just snarled and hung up the phone. His daughter had his number, shit. He did like her that much, and not just because she reminded him of something long ago. He was beginning to appreciate her for herself, not just the damned suspicion that he'd known her before.

He jumped as he heard someone knock on his room door.

"Room service." It was Maggie's voice and he just snarled a "Come in" as he concentrated on the computer in front of him.

"You didn't eat much last night at dinner." She said as she set down a tray of food…poached eggs, sausage…home made venison sausage at that, the meat was fresh he could smell it, strips of salted pork loin, buttered toast with fresh jam…what the hell had she been doing all night.

"Did you cook this?" He asked.

"Yes. I was a little upset last night, and when I get upset I cook…" She muttered. He looked over at her and caught the blush. After pulling the bullet out he'd nearly lost control, he could still see her laying there, his hand on his belt, he could feel the buckle in his hand and looked down, his hand was resting on his buckle, and he could feel the throbbing in his ears echoed in his groin. It didn't take much for her to send him surging straight to pure lust, just a pretty blush and he was ready to forget all the promises he'd made himself about leaving her alone, about her being Nat's friend.

"Just leave it." He snarled, claws extending almost against his will. He watched her cringe and she set the tray on the table and turned to leave.

"I was hoping we'd finish that talk…I still am confused about a lot of things." She said at the door.

"Not now, Darlin.' You really need ta learn when you're in danger." He growled as she walked out the door.

"So do you." She growled back and slammed his door. What she didn't understand is he did know exactly when he was in danger…and right now he was beyond in danger.

Part of him wanted to get up, walk across the hall and kick her door in and show her that he wasn't going to play her game of stalking off in a huff…and part of him wanted very much to continue where they left off yesterday.

He jumped with a start, this time he recognized the noise as someone or something crashing through furniture of some sort, and right across the hall. He jumped up and ran across to see her door off the hinges and heard the sound of a struggle inside the room. He burst through to find her hitting and clawing at someone on the floor, the door of the armoire hanging half off its hinges.

"Maggie." He roared. She stopped, and the man pushed her off and ran for the door. He stopped, not dead, but if he tried to move again he would be as Victor's hand closed around his throat.

"You don't kill someone that way woman; this is how you do it." He said as he lifted the intruder from his feet and held him dangling in the air a foot off the floor.

"CREED!" The man croaked. He looked at him and snarled, it was the damned idiot from the Marshall Service.

"The bullet is in my room you idiot, what the hell are you doing in her room?" He dropped the kid who was now scared out of his wits.

"I had instructions to check out your new 'frail.' From Fury I swear." He choked.

"I don't have a new...hey where'd she go?" He looked around and Maggie was no where to be seen. How the hell had she slipped past him? He turned around and caught her scent down the hallway.

He was getting sick of having to chase down the women he loved. First Maggie, then Dana and now...he stopped dead in the middle of the lobby, several people staring at him. He let out a low snarl, and picked up the scent again. How the hell had that happened. He wasn't even sure yet if he was going to let her live, but he loved her. The frail was going to be the death of him. Her scent took a sharp turn.

He followed it and it lead to a set of swinging doors, he pushed them open. Her scent was strong, along with salt and all the other frail shit he associated with tears. He couldn't see her.

He walked in and found her curled up on the floor near the large stove, her knees pressed against her chest. He growled and she looked up.

"WHAT!" She roared at him..."You're used to this SHIT! I'm a fucking CHEF NOT a fucking cop or warrior or whatever the fuck you are. I COOK I don't KILL!" She roared, tears streaking down her face. He stalked across the floor. She'd pushed him too far this time. She needed to learn who she belonged to, and now.

He grabbed her by her upper arms and pulled her to her feet, and then off of them holding her at his eye level. "Of course you don't kill, you're a frail...you're there to protect, and drive me insane." He said, dropping her back to her feet after a little shake. She stood there, in shock for a second and then he felt her hand across his face. Such a wrong and right move on her part at the same time. He gave her a smile he knew chilled the blood in lesser mortals, and was pleasantly surprised with another slap.

"Okay. We'll do this the hard way." He growled, picking her up and sitting her on the pristine cutting table behind him. The height was perfect for what he had in mind and she must have realized it, because she tried to jump down, but he was wedged between her thighs.

"You have to get a few things straight, little frail." He whispered as his lips brushed her forehead. "Firstly, fear, blood, violence, hell you walking into a room arouse me, and its just not fair to keep leaving me hard and lonely. First you went and died on me, and now you can't seem to get the idea that I'm a very very angry feral with needs...needs you are going to have to give in and meet at some point."

She surprised him by kissing him...his hands planted on both sides of her hips on the table, and he could feel her pressing against him. He let out a low growl, as his hands moved to grip her hips and seat her against him. She couldn't help but notice exactly how she effected him, he was grinding hard against her as her fingers wove through the hair he'd allowed to grow out again. She was pulling him closer as she leaned back to lay on the table and he let her, the feeling of her legs wrapped around his hips eliciting another low growl.

XXXXXXXXXXX

She wasn't going to regret a second of this. She was completely overwhelmed and needed something to ground her again, and if that was a damned good fuck on the table she'd take it at this point. His mouth tasted like heaven and she felt his claws slip under her blouse and shred the fabric. She moaned. She wasn't interested in anything but feeling his skin as her claws made short work of his shirt as well. He growled against her mouth as her hands roamed his torso, his hands roamed hers as well, and he wasn't being careful of his claws she felt them scrape her skin and it just urged her on, her body grinding against him in his jeans as she wanted him bare against her skin.

"Stop." He groaned.

"Why?" She looked at him, her eyes narrowing.

"Not here."

"Why not?" she let it out as a growl, sitting up where she could feel his belt buckle, trying to unfasten it.

"Anyone could walk in." He groaned as her fingers brushed the throbbing ridge in his jeans.

"So bolt the doors." She growled, looking back over her shoulder at the bolts that secured the doors to the floor and ceiling.

"No."

"YOU BASTARD!" She roared. "Giving me that speech about leaving you frustrated, but you don't give a flying fig about..." His mouth crushed hers, his fangs cutting her lips as he took complete possession of her.

"I'll take the chance." He growled his hands replacing hers at his belt, she quickly moved to unfastening her own slacks but his hands moved to stop her, pulling her down from the table, shredding her pants as he ripped them off. He turned her in his arms until she was facing the table and she felt his hands scraping her back as he pushed her to lean over. She moaned as her nipples met the cold steel of the table. She felt him pressing against her and moaned even louder.

"Your my mate." He growled as he pushed inside her and she cried out both in pleasure and pain, as her body stretched to accommodate him. She leaned her forehead on the cool steel and whimpered in pure pleasure as his claws scratched the sides and backs of her thighs as he pounded against her, her body pressed against the table by his mass with each thrust. If she didn't have a healing factor, she'd have had broken bones and bruises on the front of her thighs but as it was, the sharp edge of the table pressing against her just sent her careening to an edge with the pain and pleasure from his thrusts.

"Not yet babe..." He growled as he nipped her ear from behind. She was yanked up from the table by her hair and flipped in mid air so that she landed on her back, breath forced from her lungs by the impact as he didn't even miss a thrust, just wrapped her legs around him and leaned down and took one nipple in his mouth, his teeth nipping the tender flesh causing her to gasp what air was left in her lungs, jumpstarting her breathing with deep pants and ragged gasps as her fingers twisted in his hair to hold him in place with one hand while the other hand grabbed his back, claws digging in to make sure he didn't stop.

"FUCK!" He roared as she felt him throbbing deep inside her, filling her, but he didn't even stop, just took a deep breath and continued thrusting, nuzzling her breast and licking her skin with his rough tongue as she felt her body winding closer and to an explosion of her own, and felt him grin as her body began to spasm under him and she threw her head back and screamed "VICTOR!"

He stroked her cheek with one hand as he lifted his face from her chest to look up at her. The self-satisfied look on his face almost made her slap him again, but his other hand had slipped between them and the very tip of his claw was gently rubbing against her as she gasped and screamed his name again, not caring if anyone heard her

"Keep that up babe...and I'll never let you up." He growled as she felt him hit his climax again, that healing factor was helping him keep up with her and she wasn't complaining. They both looked up as the doors swung open. She found herself looking upside down at her brother's shocked face.

"We'll be done in a minute." Victor growled and Danny just backed out, the look on his face making her laugh. Victor pulled away from her and both of them groaned.


End file.
